Bitches Loved, Bitches Hated

Monday Monday Monday...

Hi there. Welcome back. How was your weekend? Mine was... well... a weekend.

It was pretty uneventful, actually. Friday night I went out to celebrate the birthday of the one, the only Andrea Caswell (depicted below as lovable loser Kathy) ---


--- and I got uproariously drunk, for some reason. And then proceeded to stay up until close to 6 AM doing absolutely nothing. Do you ever find yourself up in the wee hours of the morning asking yourself "what the fuck am I doing right now?! Where the fuck did the past four hours go and what occupied them?! I know something did... but can't, for the life of me, pinpoint what that is"... yeah... it was like that...

So I just stayed in most of Saturday being the sizzlingliest hot tranny mess that I could be.

Saturday night saw us 'try something new'. Read: go to a gay bar that's not Buddies. So we ventured to the first time to a joint called El Convento Rico. Apparently it started out as this renowned safe-haven for Latin members of the gay community, and boasts quite an arsenal of Latin drag queens, many of whom have autographed portraits hanging on the wall a-la Sardi's.

We arrived at around 12:30 in the midst of something... I gathered it was a drag show, but couldn't really see anything until we found a suitable point of view... once we found one, I saw what could have been either a particularly ornately attired woman or a typical tranny lip-syncing along to the Spanglish version of Kat Deluna's "Whine Up".

Intermittently, zaftig party girls who were part of a bridal shower would come up and drop it like it was hot, regardless of whether it was hot or not.

Okay, this seems like a drag show. Huzzah's all around.

Then, once that particular drag queen was done, some sprightly Gino dude came up, danced around and lip-synced to Ricky Martin's "Maria". Ummm... okay... so this isn't so much a drag show as much as it is a good old-fashioned AIR BAND CONTEST... hmmm...

Anyway - it was like waltzing into another mothafuckin' world, let me tell ya. One I have little desire to revisit...

In other news that's entirely questionable as to whether or not you'll care about:

Ask anyone who knows me to describe my behavior in general on a Sunday, and they'll say "feline". In that all that I ever do on Sundays is eat and sleep - I truly am the picture of languid.

It's also the only day of the week that I'll watch whatever the fuck is on TV... like whatever the fuck is on TV... like the other week, I actually watched Heartbreakers starring Susan "Sigourney" Weaver and Jennifer Loathe Hewitt... yeah... I really fucking watch anything...

Last Sunday happened to mark what would have been the 100th birthday of screen Goddess Joan Crawford.

Joan Crawford, of course, is Old Hollywood royalty. Having appeared in more than 400 films (or whatever), she started out as a good-old-fashioned hoofer in the chorus line under her birth name, Lucille LeSeur.

Some years later, she was hired as a contract player at MGM Studios, playing bit parts in the silent films of the era. When the talkies arrived - AND BOY, DID THEY EVER! - MGM honcho Louis B. Mayer insisted that she change her name, as he felt LeSeur sounded too much like Sewer. A contest was held to find a new name for the starlet - which kind of seems weird, huh? Like, she was already sort-of established... it'd be like Dreamworks currently having a contest to rename Amy Adams or something... - and the first choice was "Joan Arden". To the chagrin of everyone in the world with the exception of plump Canadian chanteuse Jann Arden, that name was already taken at the time. So plan B was taken instead: Joan Crawford.

I've always kind of been obsessed with Joan Crawford. I remember it randomly started in second year University... I just love the bitches' face more than I can possibly say.

I collected all these pictures of her online and actually had one on my desktop, insisting that she looked like me - a fact that, with the right photoshopped makeup applied, is still stunningly true.

Anyway - imagine my delight when flipping channels discovered that Turner Classic Movie Channel was airing a special entitled "Joan Crawford: The Ultimate Movie Star", which, to my greater delight, is all on the y'tube:

It links to the other 10 parts and it's all just entirely fascinating. It features interviews with countless co-stars, former directors, former paramours, biographers and most notably, her adopted daughter Christina whom she put through years of abuse that were documented in a memoir-turned-film, "Mommie Dearest".

Anyballs...

BITCH I LOVED THIS WEEK

ANITA PAGE

Who: I know it would have been the sort of obvious choice for me to put Joan Crawford, but she's just so far above being ranked by the lowly likes of the blogosphere, that I refuse! Anita Page, if you watched that clip, is that cranky old broad dressed to the nines who recalls working with Crawford on several pictures. Further research discloses that she's one of the last (I think, of three) stars who worked in silent films still alive and even more ass-rockingly of note is that she's the ONLY PERSON STILL ALIVE who was at the first Academy Awards.
Why I Loved Her: Anita Page doesn't fuck around. She's older than water but that's not gonna stop her from putting on her Sunday best and talkin' shit about people she's outlived. LOVE IT.

BITCH I HATED THIS WEEK

RUSSELL OLIVER

Who: Self-proclaimed "Cash Man", anyone in the Toronto area can tell you that this man rules the airwaves as far as local advertising time goes. He runs Oliver Jewellery, a shop that purportedly buys used jewellery for big bucks. Apparently - that's bullshit. He offers meagre amounts and then tells people to get out of his face. His amateur-ish commercials run round the clock and make absolutely no sense.
Why I Hated Him: He's basically Scrooge McDuck in human form and just so ridiculous he makes me want to vomit. I mainly hate him because that Euro-dance video he made with backup dancers get stuck in my head quite often, though.

Bah...

I've gotta split...

But before I do...

Let the aggressive inundation begin...

YAY!!!

In just over two weeks!!! This one is going to be GOOD.

Until tomorrow,

--- Aj

That [severely belated] America's Next Top Model Doppelgangers Blog!

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyy muggles...

Sorry for the absence yesterday. Batshit insanity in the busy-ness department.

First off - thanks so much for everyone who mentioned that the incomparable Sarah Silverman also has a smouldering penchant for BabyBel cheese, one that she spoke about in this clip from when she hosted the Independent Spirit awards...

I totally saw that ages ago. There's very little out there that Miss Silverman has done that I haven't seen multiple times and studied...

Second off - CHIKEZIE'S GONE. Ha. Just like I'd predicted. I know I didn't actually call anything beyond him being in the bottom 3 per se, but that's what I actually predicted - I thought I'd put a hex on the whole thing if I actually committed it to writing. So my plan worked perfectly... muahaha...

Someone else who's plan worked perfectly was Kristy Lee motherfucking Cook. That patriot porn she served up did the trick. It's also cursed me with having Lee Greenwood's "God Bless The USA" in my head somethin' fierce. My bosses were like "why the fuck are you singing Lee Greenwood's 'God Bless The USA', asshole?" and I was all "BECAUSE I'M ILL!"... It's fucked up...

Thirdly - Some of you have been downright mystified about why I have remained so mum about commenting on this current season of America's Next Top Model. And to you I say - m'I dunno. I guess it's just not the hot button thing that it used to be, in my eyes. I still enjoy it immensely - don't get it twisted, to quote Cycle 5's downright fugly chick with a winning personality, Ebony.

So, to those of you needing to be thrown an ANTM bone, here's sumpthin' for ya...

A few seasons ago I noticed that an exorbitant amount of the girls in said season were downright doppelgangers of celebrities of the then-moment. This season, I'm noticing it as well.

So, here's my assessment of the current crop of America's Next Top Model hopefuls and their celebrity doppelgangers...

Newly-minted bitch Claire and Ashley Judd...



Prodigious punk-rock misfit Lauren and Canadian treasure Sarah Polley...

Recently-ousted mega-bitch who used to be A.) anorexic and B.) allegedly big in Japan Allison and Alyssa "Samantha Micelli" Milano...

Even more recently-ousted girl next door Prudence McPrude Aimee and tweenage It-girl Miley Cyrus...

Plus-sized stunner Whitney and recovering-alcoholic Queen of Country Music, Wynonna...

Ghostly, weird accent-bearing Anya and Tilda Swinton as the Witch in The Chronicles of Narnia...

Mail-order bride-chic Katarzcyna and pouty weirdo Jonathan Rhys Meyers...

A two-parter:

Vaginally circumsized Somalian beauty Fatima as A.) Iman, obviously...

and B.) He-man ubervillain, Skeletor...

Squeaky-voiced oddball Stacy-Ann and mischievous cartoon fowl, Tweety Bird...

Lonesome ghetto-rat Marvita and Disney's premiere barnyard ingenue, Clarabelle Cow...

Batshit-nuts Amis and flamboyant funnyman, Jim J. Bullock...

And, another toss-up...

Haggard super-bitch Dominique and A.) Wilson Jermaine Heredia as Angel in Rent...

and B.) a catcher's mit...

That's all.

Have a blessid weekend.

See you soon...

... WITH BIG NEWS!

--- Aj

Big Whoop! Who Gives A Bibble? Gabba Gabba Hey

Ha.

Okay...

Yesterday, I finally had BabyBel cheese for the first time.

I was a little reluctant to at first. After all, they're miniature wheels of cheese encased in their own individual shells of wax - AND WHO THE FUCK HAS THE TIME FOR THAT? Moreover, those commercials depicting someone jumping out of a plane in pursuit of one freak me out... a cheese? That someone would go kamazae over? UNLIKELY!

But yesterday I bought some on sale and HO - LY - FUCK. NUTS. So delicious.

Moving On:

Idol Wrapup...

Ramiele put me to sleep. Well no, she didn't. I was already asleep. Fucking Jeopardy put me to sleep before Idol, but Ramiele - who kicked things off last night - didn't wake me up. Can you believe that? And singing Heart's "Alone"... of course she did... bah... it sucked. So did she. Well, if anything will land her in the bottom 3 at long last, this'll be it. If not - may God help us all. Her constituency (read: Asian-Americans) is stronger and more vigorous than we can possibly imagine.

Jason Castro continues to be adorable if a little underwhelming. What was up with the foreign language portion yet again? Are you trying to suggest that your debut album would be one of world music? Whatevs... he's getting a little "more of the same" but his sincerity saves him. If there's a disco week, he is fucked up to his brain, though...

Syesha worked it out, as she's been prone to doing of late. If only she wasn't so God-damned unlikable. And bitch - PLEASE stop crying like a baby. It's really not the neat, signature party trick you think it is. Nor is your voice as earth shatteringly divatastic as you think it is. Hmmm.

If Chekezie was an hour glass, methinks there is a tablespoon of sand left in the top chamber... tick tock tick tock... shoot... mayyyyybe Chekezie could have been pseudo-famous back in the all black dude vocal ensemble wave of the mid 90's a-la Boyz II Men, All 4 One, Colour Me Badd, Bel Biv Devoe, Dru Hill... the list goes on endlessly... but now, he's just moot. MOOT!

If I was taking Brooke White's performance seriously, I'd say that it's reasonably commendable that she was able to shake off her complete fuck-up at the beginning of her performance of "Every Breath You Take" and it was completely unecessary for the band to join her like they did. But I wouldn't be taking Brooke seriously because I can't standz da bitch no way. Gah... she'll be safe again.

Michael Johns cemented my belief that he would be make a dynamite replacement for Yvan Pedenault in the Mirvish production of "We Will Rock You" if it wasn't closing May 19th - GET YOUR TICKETS NOW BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE! (Can you tell I work for Mirvish?) Anyway... m'afraid that's about the most he could amount to... seriously - does anyone get anything authentic off of him? He's like a better-looking, slightly catatonic, Australian version of Constantine Maroulis. Blech.

Carly Smithson still holds the key to my heart, despite her incredibly nervous rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart"... I think she needs to take things a little less seriously, but I still love her. She best not be in the Bottom 3 tonight, y'all...

David Archuleta is a Disney character and that's all there is to it. He might as well have been joined on stage by the Famous People Players* bouncing around of mothafuckin' pogo sticks and giving eachother butterfly kisses, his performance of "You're The Voice" was so stomach churningly wretched... Not. My. Thing.

Kristy Lee Cook's performance of "God Bless The USA" might as well capped itself off by her felating a George Washington look alike and taking in the ass by a giant Bald Eagle - I think that's the only possible way it could have pandered to her constituency more. Holy fuck. I was like "Oh fucking no she isn't". I hereby solemnly swear that the next time I mount a stage in a karaoke context, I WILL be singing "God Bless The USA".

David Cook isn't exactly blowing my mind. PEOPLE - he was doing a cover of Chris Cornell's reversioning of "Billie Jean". He did NOT rework that himself. He was covering someone else's originality - don't get so excited. The fact that he has an extensive mental library of reworkings, reversionings and covers does not an Idol make.

Anyballs...

Bottom 3: Presuming that Carly's premature appearance in last week's Bottom 3 will rally her fanbase this week and Shitsy Lee Cock's patriotism sufficiently rallied the 36% of American's that approve of Bush, I'm going to call out Chikezie, Ramiele and in a surprise visit to the B3, Jason Castro... I might be so inclined to predict that it's the end for Ramiele...

That's it...

Super fun post coming tomorrow!!!

--- Aj

*I don't know if you went to that website, but you'll note that the catchphrase that the FPP use is "See You In The Dark". Clever, huh? Also totally stolen. That phrase was created by none other than my dear gal pal Larissa B. Laycock in our fucking commercial class when we were at *barf* Humber in our TV Writing Post-grad course and ripped off by our teacher then and there. And they're STILL fucking using it... wow... anyballs...

Carole Pope-smear

Muggles and non-muggles alike...

How art thou?

Sorry for not posting since Thursday. Sorrier still that the fucking photoshopping I did portraying Estelle Getty on the cover of a "mature" watersports video was taken down - I COVERED UP HER NASTY ELDERLY TETTAS AND BEAV! What more do you want, Photobucket?! So fuck it... here it is again...


Yes. Again, I'm terribly sorry for her family. But I'm allowed to my artistic expression. And if that artistic expression involves putting the face of your matriarch on an old broad takin' a leak, SO. BE. IT.

Anyballs...

This past weekend was somethin' else buster.

Friday night saw us venture out to Circa. I believe there's some unnecessary capitalization in there... like CirCa or something... meh... it's not worth it. It's this five-tiered fortress of a club that's impossible to navigate. I have to imagine some horrendous cyborg king sits at the top of it, ruling over everything.

It was SUCH a hassle to get in. Thank God we were joined this evening by the lovely and talented Miss Nicole Arbour, who, wielded her awesome men's magazine appeal to get us into the VIP. Yep. We rocked the VIP. It was definitely a low point of my life.

There are some phrases that I just feel that, if I don't get to utter them but once in my life, well, my life will be incomplete. I remember for the longest time, it was "Physician Heal Thyself!" and I finally got to drag that out two years ago when I worked at this physiotherapy-esque joint.

Well Friday got to see me FINALLY bust out, "I don't like like the vibe in the VIP". YES! My life is that much richer...

Anyballs - Circa was nothing to shout about. Very pricey and very crowded. The music was atrocious. I vamoosed out of there tidily before 1.

Saaaaturday saw me trek to - where else - Buddies... BUT for good reason. To catch a two-night-only, intimate performance by the legendary Carole Pope.

Refresher course on Carole Pope...

Or, rather for many of you, introductory course on Carole Pope...

Carole Pope is the front woman and one half of the creative force behind a legendary Canadian punk/new-wave outfit called Rough Trade whose heyday would have been the mid-70's to the mid-80's when they broke up.

Their renown came from their innovative, aggressively sexual songs like "All Touch", "Crimes of Passion" and their biggest hit, "High School Confidential" (as performed below) all marked by Pope's signature androgynous swagger and BDSM-inspired look...

Anyway. She fucking rocks. She first came to light for me back in '03 or '02 or some year that she was playing pride here. I remember groaning about how no one of any sort of relevance came to play pride and my uncle said that this year's entertainment was Carole Pope. I, of course, said "who?" and my mother - who was also present at the time - said "oh I love Carole Pope". I had absolutely no idea who the balls she was, so my uncle went about schooling me in the rich history of Rough Trade and also that "High School Confidential" was the song that Justin strips to in that episode of "Queer As Folk" when he won the stripping competition, so that brought it home.

Some time after that, I was milling about in a Chapters for some ungodly reason and came across her autobiography, "Anti-Diva". In it, she gives a no holds barred account of her many, many, MANY lesbian love affairs - each one more torrid than the last - and a vivid account of her years spent on the front lines of the punk, disco and new-wave music scene. It was a very fetching read - particularly what she has to say about her affair with Dusty Springfield, whom I fucking love.

Anyballs - she was fantastic. Just transfixing. I didn't know any of the music - because yeah, no, she totally didn't do "High School Confidential"... and I know! That's like Laura Branigan (God rest her soul) not doing "Gloria" - but it was cool. She was just a joy to watch.

Annnnnd that'll be the extent that I see any sort of live music for the rest of the year. An evening well spent.

In other news:

BITCH I LOVED THIS WEEK

CAROLE POPE

Who: [See above].
Why I Loved Her: Because she's a fierce tranny mess, is why. A consummate pro, magical to watch, still full of a boisterous, aggressive vocal style and watermelon-sized bronzed balls. She's quite a broad. AND - THIS IS SOME HOT TRIVIA - her sister is Elaine Pope. Who's Elaine Pope, you ask? A standup comic and writer and former flame of Jerry Seinfeld's... who directly served as the inspiration for Elaine Benes, is who... so, she's got that going for her too.

BITCH I HATED THIS WEEK

ASHLEY ALEXANDRA DUPRE

Who: Aspiring musician/Former Governor Eliot Spitzer's pick of the Emperor's Club VIP litter for right hand whore. Or, pardon me, escort. Recently set to see her premium soar and enjoy a cushy 15 minutes of fame when she was presented with a 1 million dollar offer to work with Joe Francis' "Girls Gone Wild" empire... that is until they found that years ago, pre-Emperor's Club, bitch had one too many Bacardi Breezers, lost her halter top and unknowingly gave away her milk for free.
Why I Hated Her: Oh Ashley Alexandra Ashley Alexandra Ashley Alexandra... my my my... talk about that old fable, "The Fox & The Crow". Jesus. This is sort of an updated version. Sort of. This bitch spends years uppin' the value of her bidness only to have it dashed by some youthful indiscretions. I guess I kinda feel bad for her. Ah well. My love for kicking people when they're down far outweighs that guilt. Anyway... moral of the story kids - DON'T BE A HO.

That's it? Really? Really?

Meh... I promise pithier fare later this week...

Love & Light,

--- Aj

Haute Topics

Blurg...

Howdy...

It's everyone's favourite head-cold-ed, busted-toe, hot tranny mess...

I'm ill. And that's all there is to it.

Sorry for the no postage yesterday... I went home from work early and spent it sleeping. Well, sleeping and watching Sex & The City... as a few weeks ago, I made my annual splurge and bought the entire series (seriously... that's a huge deal... I'm a notoriously cheap bitch who never buys nothin', so it's kinda nuts).

I bought it partially in anticipation of getting "Carried" away this April when Sex & The City: The Movie hits theatres, and partially because I was sick to death of watching the hyper-edited and spliced together re-runs airing in syndication, mostly on the Erie, Pennsylvania CBS affiliate on my cable package. For real... I cannot fucking stand those watered down re-runs. It's like the character of Samantha doesn't exist, and when she does, they half-assedly cover up her spicy language. F'rinstance - in the episode where they go to the gay club, "All That Glitters", Samantha goes up to the urinals to scope out the cock. She comes back to the girls, and as it aired originally, says quite jubilantly - "I just saw five dicks!"... then in the watered down re-runs, it translates into "I just saw five [completely different voice in place of Kim Catrall's mouth very clearly saying "dicks"] thingies!".

Not. Cool.

Anyballs... so I'm rewatching S&TC in its entirety now, back to back to back to back - I think I'm either on Season 3 or 4 right now... Charlotte & Trey are trying to have a baby, Aiden just proposed to Carrie, Miranda just found out she's pregnant and Samantha just met Richard - and in my consecutive watching of it, have noticed something I didn't whilst watching it during its initial run: that show's timeline was fucked up somethin' fierce. You might even say, it was a hot tranny mess of a timeline. Might. Fuck - of COURSE you'd say that!

At any given point, they'll suggest time periods that vary from 2 days to 3 months transpire between episodes. It's quite jarring, really. It's a lot to digest in one sitting. But I should be so lucky that that's the worst of my problems...

Anyballs - SPEAKING OF SEX & THE CITY... the most unlikely of sex tapes/nude photos were released to the shock and awe of everyone recently... yeppers, talkin' 'bout Kristin "Charlotte York McDougall Goldenblatt" Davis!

Holy fuck... who saw this one comin'... Not me! Pictured to the right, is the unmistakably cherubic visage of Kristin/Charlotte slobbering all over a great big, skanky cock that's been cropped out, natch.

A photo surfaced of someone who looked an awful lot like Davis/York earlier this week positively mowing down on some dude's beaver cleaver with a promise of more to be found on a porn website. The curious few who did indeed pay the $29.95 for access found no such photos, however.

A scant day after this, more photos were leaked - many assumed that they were accessories to a full-blown sex tape. Immediately, Davis' press rep denied that they were her, despite obvious telltale similarities betwixt Kristy D and the woman pictured - apparently taking a page from the debacle that was Vanessa "Pizza Beav" Hudgens leaked nude photo scandal. For good measure/old times' sake, once again to the left, to the left, is the aforementioned photo of a nude Vanessa-Anne Hudgens with her unmentionable bits obscured by objects similar in size, shape and composition. I just never tire of seeing that.

Now TMZ has reportedly unearthed the whole story. The photos were taken back in 1992 by her then-boyfriend, a New York chef named Eric Stapleman.

Apparently he got pissed at Kristin recently and sold them to a third-party. This third-party then sold it to a fourth-party and now they're online and everyone's now blissfully abreast of what Charlotte's once-sacred business looks like.

Of course, this all beckons PUBLICITY MACHINE! Very convenient that pictures of Charlotte's beav are leaked just as the publicity for the S&TC movie begineth. Very convenient.

Points for innovation. The obvious choice to have a sex tape leaked would have been Kim Cattrall/Samantha... Cynthia Nixon and her portly lesbian lover would have horrified everyone beyond repair, and everyone knows that SJP and Matthew Broderick live sexlessly as each others' beards... so Kristin Davis/Charlotte having a intimate property released is the most buzz-creating and unlikeliest choice...

Now [completely believable to the point that no one is batting an eye] rumours are swirling that Lindsay Lohan has a sex tape. And Amy Winehouse has nude pictures leaked... And that high-priced skank who sexed up disgraced New York governor Eliot Spitzer was offered 1 mil to do something in Girls Gone Wild only to have it discovered that she had already given the milk away for free several years earlier on one of their previous editions...

So help me God, next thing you know, it'll be discovered that Estelle "Sophia Petrillo" Getty made an amateur watersports video pre-Golden Girls... whose cover art, incidentally, might look like this...

I'd like to extend my deepest apologies to her family. I'm so, so sorry I just did that.

In other news:

Last night marked the departure of two of my favourite hot tranny messes of reality television history: Amanda Overmyer from American Idol and Marvita from America's Next Top Model.


Sadness abounds.

Firstly, yes yes yes I know I missed my Idol recap yesterday. I was sick. Deal with it. All I basically would have said is that Archuleta regained his steam, Carly was amazing, Kristy Lee Cook needs to die and that harmonica part of the song that Ramiele sang is haunting my dreams. I then would have predicted that the bottom three would consist of Kristy Lee, Amanda and Michael Johns with Kristy Lee making her eagerly anticipated exeunt, without flourish.

Of course, that's not how things panned out. Instead, resident rocker-grrrl Amanda Overmyer was sent packing whilst Krusty-Lee Cock continues the proud tradition of Haley Scarnato before her. I can't tell you how much I would have given to see Amanda under the tutelage of upcoming mentor Mariah Carey. When hairy met scary. Oh shit. Ah well. T'wasn't meant t'be.

And Marvita. Oh Marvita. Poor lanky hood rat Marvita. I really liked her, but she just gave up. As Tranny Banks said, she gave up on the competition before the competition gave up on her. Too bad. She looks like some haute-couture version of a dog about to put to sleep in that picture. Boo-urns.

Anyway...

It's Easter this weekend...

I hope I feel better. As I'd like to get drunk.

Ta!

--- Aj

Bitches Loved, Bitches Hated

Ew.

I'm sick, y'all.

On top of my assfucking toe - which is doing better... in that I'm now just in pain and general discomfort, as opposed to be completely debilitated... so like, I don't hobble along the periphery of a hallway with the elderly and other disabled people anymore... BUT STILL.

Anyway... now I've got this sniffle bullshit and my head is like a haunted Maritimey ports mouth, it's so cloudy. Which is going to make my stint hosting the SketchComedyLounge and the Rivoli tonight go extra smoothly, I'd have to bet.

Holy fuck, y'all. I am going to be a hot tranny mess this evening.

Which, by the way, is I think the new standard greeting for everyone in the world as of this past week, thanks largely in part to this little offering from last week's SNL:

You don't even understand - EVERYONE I know has adopted the pet name "tranny" and everyone that they know and so on and so on. A conversation that took place Sunday morning on the phone betwixt Yerxa, Anth and myself... "Yeah Tranny... I don't know what Tranny was thinking... Oh - hold on... it's Tranny on the other line... [switches lines] Hey Tranny, I'm on the other line with Tranny". IT'S GETTING OUT OF CONTROL.

Anyway... yes... hot tranny mess... am I making sense right now? I doubt it.

Moving right along...

BITCH I LOVED THIS WEEK

SILDA SPITZER

Who: Harvard Law School Graduate-turned-Corporate Lawyer-turned-wife of recently disgrace New York Governor/Frequent Call Girl User/Outright hypocrite-turned-Podium accessory.
Why I Loved Her: I just figure it's been a rough week for the bitch, and she could probably use some love. Holy fuck. Can you even imagine being her? First - your fucking husband, who famously champions against the sex trade and pornography industry, is caught spending close to 100 grand on a call girl (who, btw, ain't even that cute... shoot) then, to protect yourself and your daughters who in no way asked to be in this situation, have to go and drag your sorry, demeaned ass up onto a podium alongside your positively squalid lying shitbag of a husband while he seeks penance from the public all the while thinking to yourself "Sildie, would it have killed ya to give up some poon once in a while?" Holy fuck. I don't envy your position, bitch.

BITCH I HATED THIS WEEK

SALLY KERN

Who: Objectively: Oklahoma House Representative/Staunch "Christina"/Lover of "facts"/Purchaser of hideous pantsuits. Subjectively: Basically the dumbest bitch alive. I can't say I've ever wished heart-bursting death on anyone as much as I've wished it on this dumb bitch.
Why I Hated Her: Wasn't that about the most audacious thing you've ever heard? And this woman ACTUALLY believes the shit that she's spewing. High point of that speech: when she clarifies things and says "now, I'm not gay bashing"... saying that it's factually a dangerous lifestyle, stating the fact about suicides... yeah... the reason that gay people fucking commit suicide in the first place is because they're likely in situations where they're surrounded by evangelic psychopaths like you who make it impossible for them to live! The kakamamiest thing, however, has to be when she says that "the homosexual agenda is a greater threat than terrorism and Islam". Wow. This woman is a scorchingly hot tranny mess. And not in a good way.

K... I'm off...

To take medicine...

And do comedy...

Big big BIG post about Kristin Davis and her sex tape tomorrow...

I promise...

--- Aj

CaTOEstraphe

That one reached so far, I think m'arm exited its socket.

Happy Friday to you!

So, yesterday, I went to go and shoot a Video On Trial and 10:30 AM. Yes, AM. Holy fuck. I got up at 8:30 and was like "oh no... this isn't going to happen... I'm going to have the fucking energy level of Charlie Rose..." But after about 8 cups of tea and my daily dose of the previous day's "The View" piping out of my VCR, I managed to shake the blahs and was my reasonably energetic self.

Whilst hobbling out to my street to attempt to catch a cab, the greatest thing in the world happened to me: I bailed. Wiped out. Head over tea kettle. Yep. And just started swearing incessantly. And old man who was near me at the time asked me if I "tripped on the fire plug" or something and I was just in no mood... I barked "What the fuck are you talking about bitch! I don't got time fo' dis!" and flagged a cab.

So it's official - the world is trying to kill me. Like Dominic "Charlie" Monahan on Lost. Speaking of which - did anyone watch that last night? Holy balls. If you didn't, you missed perhaps the greatest bitchslap in the history of bitchslaps - what happened was a Sun and Jin (the Korean hotties) decide they're going to relocate to another camp, but Juliet (played to perfection by Elizabeth Mitchell... whom it's been long established that I fuckinglove) will have none of it - so to prevent them from going, Juliet blurts out that Sun had an affair before they got on the island...

Well, Sun struts over the Juliet - and because usually, this chick is just about as docile as a lapdog no one sees it coming by a mile - and just fucking BITCH SLAPS Juliet half way around the world. It was all I could do to cheer. It was amazing...

I wish I could find a clip, but I couldn't. DAMMIT!

B'aaanyway...

In other news: David "Stripper who performed for a mostly male audience" Hernandez was given the boot on Wednesday, and I couldn't be more pleased. Also, I can't help but think it's 90% because I posted a picture of him with his pubes hangin' out. Yes.

I've read a few exit interviews with him since his ouster and he's very serious. He's very much someone who subscribes to this "God has other plans for me" rhetoric. Yeah, She/He does. She plans for you to go back to twirling your great big, skanky, uncut Hispanic sausage around for creepy older gay gentlemen for dolla bills. Maybe while you sing "Papa Was A Rolling Stone".

Seriously, the most that's going to happen for this guy is that maybemaybemaybe he'll score a part in a regional production of The Full Monty: The Musical or something. I'm so sick of hearing these fucking eliminees speak of having lofty dreams and say "this is just the beginning". NO. IT'S NOT. HISTORICALLY, IT'S REALLY, REALLY NOT. You really need to win at this phase of the Idol machine if you want to be successful, and even then it's not a guarantee.

Then they sight Jennifer Hudson, who finished a disappointing seventh place, then some years later scored the role of a lifetime, won an Oscar for it and now has a career as a bona fide film star.

Yeah.

To counter that argument, I'm going to sight Charles Grigsby, Julia DeMato, Rickey Smith, Trenyce, Leah LaBelle, Jon Peter Lewis, Lindsay Cardinale, Niko Smith, Vonzell Solomon, Melissa McGhee, Ace Young, Chris Richardson, Phil Stacey, Scott Savol, Stephanie Edwards and a positively MIND-BLOWING slew of other people who went absolutely no where after their stint on Idol. Not. Going. To. Happen.

Anyballs... I don't have too terribly much more to say today.

I haven't even posted a picture.

Shoot.

Okay... here's one... it's everyone in the world's role model - Phoebe Price (who? Exactly. All she does is go to red carpet things... she doesn't do anything beyond that - with her sister... I mean, a pig...

I'm going to go and will my bones to heal faster.

--- Aj